


Sleeping Beauty(ish)

by writernotwaiting



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, a great deal of silliness, but I did say it was silly, gratuitous use of Shakespeare, it kind of got out of hand, sorry about the Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 09:40:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12385641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writernotwaiting/pseuds/writernotwaiting
Summary: Being a very silly tale of true love aided by a pair of very devious matchmakers.Warning for gratuitous use of Shakespeare (including Midsummer Night’s Dream, Romeo and Juliet, Twelfth Night, Anthony and Cleopatra, and A Winter’s Tale). My deepest apologies to my Shakespeare professors. I am sure they would be spectacularly disappointed.





	Sleeping Beauty(ish)

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for JaneDoe876, who requested a sleeping beauty Thorki with Thor as the princess.  
> I hope this will do--I got a bit carried away with the silly, and didn't manage to work in any of the requested food porn. Maybe some other time. I hope it at least makes you smile.
> 
> Thank you pedeka and thebookhunter for your invaluable advice! You are smarvelous!

Once upon a time there was in Asgard a king and a queen who loved each other very much. They tried for many years to have a child, praying fervently to the gods for a baby on whom they could lavish their love and attention.

“Oh Odin, I long for a baby on whom I can lavish my love and attention!” sighed the matchless Queen Frigga.

“Mmmff,” agreed her husband.

At last their prayers were answered. The queen delivered a fine boy, and there was much rejoicing. Of course, there was a grand party thrown, and of course all the principle nobles of the land traveled to the castle to pay their respects, bestow lavish presents, and offer up countless toasts to the young babe. 

Alas, these things never go quite as smoothly as a monarch would like, and there are inevitably less-welcome guests at every party. In this case, it was Odin’s Aunt Nix.

“Oh gods,” he mumbled to his wife, “here comes the crazy cat lady.”

And indeed, she had brought a herd of them with her, as they pulled her little wagon through the air, because of course she wasn’t just any crazy cat lady, she was the crazy cat lady fairy—pill box hat askew, glasses dangling from a faux gold chain, cardigan stretched and pocked with moth holes. 

“Odin! Stand up straight! Your mother would be appalled to see you slouch that way. Good afternoon, Frigga, darling, how’s the boy?”

Odin shifted from one foot to the other and Nix rounded on him once more. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Odin. D’you know, somehow my birth announcement went awry? How d’you think I heard about it? A little bird told me, that’s how. At least your pet ravens are good for something.” And here she reached into a bag, pulled out a dead rabbit and tossed it up to the rafters where the two corvids sat, smug as all get out.

“Right!” Aunt Nix turned back to the queen who elbowed Odin sharply when he started to grumble. “I’ve brought presents, anyway, despite your husband’s best effort to cut his mother’s embarrassing family out of the celebrations. Where’s the little tyke?”

Frigga gathered the squirming bundle up from the nurse, and Nix eyed the babe closely. “Oooftah, he’s a big one, dearest! You must have been exhausted!” Frigga grimaced in agreement. “He looks to be a fine child. No trouble eating?” Frigga shook her head. “Excellent. Well, I have the usual ready for him—three blessings: great strength, long life and great beauty. There might be a small Shakespearean side effect of that last one, sorry. Can’t be helped. You have to promise, though, Odin—no politics. The child only gets to keep the blessings if you let him marry his true love. If you try to set him up with some contract marriage, the deal’s off. Got it?”

Odin was outraged. “What?!?! He’s a prince! He’s heir to the throne! He can’t get married to just anybody—that’s not how it works. No king ever marries for love! And I won’t have a son of mine going around spouting verse—how do I know I won’t end up in a King Lear sub-plot? I’ll have you trussed up and thrown in the dungeons!”

Frigga glared at him once more, and he hastened to correct himself, “Ok _, almost_ no king marries for love. But _Shakespeare_ , darling Frigga, you have to tell her to remove it.”

“Too late,” Nix shot back. “If you’re not careful I’ll come back when he’s 12 and add a dose of Oliver Goldsmith to go with it, and he’ll start weeping and feel faint every time the sun breaks over the hill side.” 

Odin groaned once more. “I promise you this, Odin, if you try to pawn your child off to some slimy neighbor of yours, your whole kingdom will be cursed to oblivion until your boy is awakened by true love’s kiss.” 

Then Nix nodded smartly, winked at Frigga, and was gone with a great flurry of meows and a cloud of cat fuzz.

Odin sank into his throne. “This is exactly why I didn’t send her an announcement,” he moaned as he lobbed an apple at one of the ravens seated above. Then he turned to Frigga and grumbled some more, “she’s not really my aunt, you know. She and mother were just good friends. I don’t know why she insists on being called that. It’s kind of weird, if you ask me.”

Frigga just smiled and patted Odin’s hand soothingly, “Relax, dear; these things have a way of working themselves out.”

*****

The little babe grew into a fine young boy, and then to a beautiful young man. His was a sun-kissed complexion, his hair shone like molten gold, his eyes gleamed blue like the sky at mid-day, and his muscles bulged like great mountain boulders. Even his muscles has muscles. Men and women alike sighed when he passed. Kings from across the land sent ambassadors in the hopes of winning a contract for their daughters, but Thor had eyes for one face alone.

Alas, it was not the face for which his father hoped he would pine. For this face belonged not to a beautiful princess with great tracts of land; instead, it belonged to Loki, who, as handsome and polite as he might be, was but the son of a scholar. Loki’s mother had been hired by the king as Thor’s instructor and she brought him to live in the palace rooms with her. 

He was a clever child, devouring the lessons intended for the king’s son, and staying after those lessons to keep Thor amused. He grew into a young man as handsome as his companion, though they contrasted in every respect. Where Thor shone golden and sun-like, Loki shimmered like the moon—raven haired, pale and slim like a silhouette reflected in the water. 

Over the years, they became inseparable, doing all sorts of things young folk do with one another. All of those things. Yes. Those things, too. No, not that, just those other things—what sort of kids did you hang out with, anyway, you cretins?

Anyway, as suitors began crowding up Asgard’s hallways, it became clear to Loki that his own claim to Thor’s hand was but a tenuous one, despite the many protestations of devotion they made to each other in private, so Loki devised a plan.

“Thor,” he declared on day, “it’s clear to me that your father will never allow me your hand in marriage unless I can prove myself worthy in some way, so I have decided to embark on a quest.”

“Loki, no! How shall I bear to be without you? And what if something terrible happens? Shall I abide in this dull world, which in thy absence is no better than a sty?”

“It’s the only way, Thor. Seriously, do you have to quote Cleopatra?”

“Who?”

“Forget it. I have decided to go out heroing, and when I return, I will wear on my back the skin of a great snow beast from the wastelands of Jotunheim, and then you father can’t help but see me as worthy, and I will kiss you with true love’s kiss and our love will guarantee that your Aunt Nix’s blessings will stay with you forever. You and your great tracts of land will be forever safe with me!”

Thor pleaded with him not to go, “Loki you must stay, I’m almost 19, and father wants to find me a spouse before my birthday. You cannot leave me now!”

“Thor, I must, or else I fear we will never be able to wed. Besides,” he added cryptically, “my mother will stay behind, and I’m sure she and the queen will help delay any plans your father might come up with.”

Thor threw him a brief, puzzled look before he fell to weeping, “For aught that I could ever read, could ever hear by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth.”

“Thor, that’s another story all together.”

“Ah, sorry—these things just come out of my mouth sometimes. I have no idea where they come from.”

Loki kissed him chastely on the cheek, “and that is why I will let no other marry you. Clearly you need someone to protect you.”

Thor sighed deeply, begging Loki to be careful and return as soon as possible.

Alas, “as soon as possible” turned out to be not soon enough, and Thor’s 19th birthday loomed closer and closer. Poor Thor grew more distressed every day, as his father closeted himself up with ambassadors from nearby Vahaheim and Niflheim. 

“Mother, what shall I do? I cannot wed where I do not love!”

“Do not worry, my dearest boy, there will be no wedding before your true love returns. You really must try to calm yourself—the Shakespeare gets much worse when you’re uptight like this.”

“Who is Shakespeare?”

“Oh, never mind, sweetheart, wrong AU.”

Despite her reassurances, Thor’s anxiety increased as his birthday came closer and Loki was nowhere to be seen or heard—not even a letter, the unthoughtful wretch!

Finally, on the eve of Thor’s birthday, the king stood at the end of supper as if to make a grand announcement, “I wish to make a grand announcement,” he announced.

Thor turned his head sharply, whipping his golden hair through the air as he gasped.

Odin looked down at his only son and said, “Yes, my only son, I have come to a decision concerning your marriage, and tomorrow at your birthday festivities, I will see you dance a waltz with your future partner in life, the beautiful princess of Vanaheim.”

Abruptly, the whole world seemed to shift into slow motion, as Thor rose from the table with a great roar, tossing its contents over in his rage, before wobbling ever so slightly and then collapsing in a quiet heap and starting to snore gently. Odin had but a moment to take in the sight before he, too, sank slowly back into his throne and fell asleep along with everyone else in the castle.

Well, ok, almost everyone else. “Frigga, darling, did you see the look on Odin’s face? Priceless! How long have you been waiting to catch him out like that?”

“Ages! Oh Nix, you can’t even imagine how satisfying that was. It’s a shame we couldn’t get to Thor before he knocked that table over, that’s going to be a bloody mess for someone to clean up later.” She sighed deeply. “He always had a bit of a temper.”

“Yes, well, I find a good nap always improves my mood. I’m surprised Loki hasn’t made it back by now, though I suppose if his father has found him out, it might take a bit for him to remove himself from Laufey’s clutches.”

“Are you certain he’ll let him come back?”

“Oh sweetheart, he might love his son, but he’s been wanting a foot in the door to Asgard for too long to pass up this opportunity. Give him a few months to spoil the boy, and then he’ll send him back covered in silks and furs. The big problem now is, how the hell are we going to get this enormous man-child up those damn tower stairs!”

It turned into more than a few months. When he left Asgard, Loki booked passage for himself on a trading vessel that put into port at Jotunheim’s greatest city. Unfortunately, his passport had expired and he was hauled off into a back room at border control. 

“Sorry, young man, but we’ll need to check your name against an official “do not travel” list—King Laufey keeps strict control over these borders.”

Two hours later, Loki found himself still stuck in a border control office when a cadre of six frightening officials flowed through the doorway and looked him over carefully.

“It couldn’t be him.”

“It sure looks like him.”

“But she’s been gone for ages.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it? 18 years?”

“How old are you, young man?”

“20?” Loki replied hesitantly.

“We’d better take him over just in case, don’t you think?”

The first official rubbed his face hard before he replied, “yeah, we’ll be in big trouble if you’re right and we let him go.”

One of the older men in back looked up from a little book he’d been studying, “You don’t happen to have a dagger or anything on you by any chance?”

“Just this one,” and Loki pulled out an antique silver dagger his mother had given him when he turned 16. “My mother gave it to me—“

“When you turned 16,” the men chimed in.

All of the men looked at one another, then looked back at Loki.

“You guys are really starting to freak me out.” Loki started sweating as they urged him out the door and into a waiting carriage.

“Have you ever met your father?” asked a Jotun with a large chain of office draped about his neck.

“Um, no?”

“Well, this’ll be a day of firsts for all of us, then,” the official paused for a bit before he continued, “Have you ever felt a keen affinity for ice, by any chance?”

Loki scrunched up his brow, “Where exactly are we going?”

A second Jotun pointed out the window just as they passed under an archway into a palatial courtyard.

“Are you saying my father lives here?”

“Yup.”

“So he works in the palace.”

“You could say that,” as they stepped out of the carriage.

It took months for Loki to finally extract himself from the frozen wastelands of Jotunheim. He attended dozens of parties to celebrate the return of King Laufey’s long-lost heir. Accepted heaps of priceless gifts. Attended endless lessons on Jotun history and customs. Endured countless rounds of introductions to distant cousins and important dignitaries. Finally, Loki extracted permission from his father to wend his way back to Asgard and the love of his life after faithfully promising that he would return to honeymoon in the romantic snowfields next to the midnight purple waters of Lake Ellithvatn.

When he once more arrived at Asgard, the sight that greeted him was a bit of a surprise.

“Good gods, mother,” he muttered under his breath, “don’t you think you took this whole ‘enchanted castle thing’ a little too far?”

He sighed heavily, “fine!” and unsheathed his silver dagger to start hacking away at the thorny vines that had grown about the fortress to get to the front door. Once he finally pushed through, he wandered about the rooms in search of Thor, tsk-ing to himself about the thick layer of dust that had settled over everything. “Was I really gone that long? Best get to work, then.”

Loki knew, because his mother was a scholar, that the beautiful princess was always kept in the most inaccessible part of the castle, so he started climbing.

And climbing.

And climbing.

“Holy mother of architecture, who decided it was a good idea to put all of these stairs in here! I’ll collapse with a heart attack before I reach the top.”

Finally, the stairwell got dim and the door appeared. Clasping the knob with trembling fingers . . . 

Clasping the knob with trembling fingers . . . 

“Hold on, I need to catch my breath!”

Pausing to catch his breath at the top of the stairs (“Thank you!”), Loki clasped the knob with trembling fingers, before reverently entering the chamber. 

The sight that greeted his eyes took his breath away, for there lay his love, sleeping soundly on a bed of the finest silks and velvets, bathed in the afternoon sunlight that caught in the golden strands of his hair the spread halo-like across the pillows. Loki rushed to his side.

“Thor! Look! I did as I promised. I have returned laden with gifts and treasure from Jotunheim, including this really heavy fur cloak made from the skin of some godforsaken beast. Damn it’s heavy! Thor, wake up!”

But Thor did not move. His breathing continued slow and steady, face smooth as monumental alabaster. 

Loki poked him. “Thor, this is no joke, wake up. Don’t you want to see what I brought back for you?”

“Thor?”

Loki grimaced in frustration, and ran through all of the stories his mother had heaped on his desk as a child. “Oh hel, maybe if I take a nap something will come to me.”

So Loki crawled up into the plush bedding alongside his love, and snuggled up close. Once there, however, he found he could not close his eyes for feasting on Thor’s beauty. Loki’s fingers reached out of their own accord and brushed a stray hair from Thor’s brow, traced across his perfect cheek, ghosted over his lovely soft lips, and strayed down the line of his neck. “Oh Thor,” he sighed voice deep with affection, “you are twice as beautiful as I remembered, for how could memory ever do you justice.”

Loki’s eyes followed the path of his fingers as they dipped from Thor’s neck to the gap at the top of his tunic to play. There they paused to play with the laces before he flattened his palm over the sculpted muscles of Thor’s chest that were barely concealed by his snug clothing. He couldn’t help but moan when his hand strayed lower to the flat plane of Thor’s belly. 

“Oh forgive me, my love,” and Loki moved to press his whole body on top of Thor’s to straddle him and nuzzle into Thor’s warm neck, breathing in his essence before moving up to brush his lips across Thor’s own, and humming as he stole a lingering kiss.

Then he screeched out loud as the body beneath him shifted to take a deep breath and huge hands suddenly wrapped themselves about his waist.

Loki fought to scramble away, panicking as he was trapped. 

“Loki!”

It was Thor. Just Thor.

Loki drew a calming breath then giggled, “My sleeping beauty awakes!”

“Oh Loki!”

And suddenly he found his mouth engulfed in Thor’s, hair tangled up in Thor’s fingers, senses overwhelmed with Thor’s scent, Thor’s heat, Thor’s needy moans that vibrated through his entire body, Thor’s insistent movements beneath his hips that elicited his own response in kind.

Loki mumbled in between their kisses, “I missed you so much!” 

Thor responded beside Loki’s ear where he had buried himself into his hair, “what took you so long? Love's heralds should be thoughts, which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams.”

Loki whimpered, “It’s a long storrrrr-eep!” His voice squeaked higher as Thor’s warm, broad hand found Loki’s tight rear end and squeezed, “and I really think Romeo and Juliet are not a pair of lovers to be modeled on.”

“Who are Romeo and Juliet?”

“Never mind. I really need to have a talk with my mother, though.”

Loki sat up at that point, hauling Thor with him, “You are over dressed, my love, and I’m not sure how much time we have before the rest of the household wakes up and comes in search of you.” Thor nodded, and swifter than cupid’s bow, Loki stripped himself and his lover of their shirts and began lavishing his chest with kisses and little nips while Thor raked his blunt nails down Loki’s back before settling on his hips to hold him in place.

“Gallop apace you fiery-footed steed,” Thor cried as they ground their hips together with increasing urgency.

Loki responded with a grumble of frustration and leaned back to loosen the ties of their breeches, urging Thor to pause long enough so they were finally moving skin to skin. 

“Oh Loki, allow me to unfold the passion of my love!”

Loki pulled their manhoods together in his hand, wrapping around them as best he could to stroke the velvet soft skin. Thor groaned and followed suit, enveloping both their picks and Loki’s hand and then thrusting between. They moved against one another, slicked by their mutual excitement. Lips found lips as they gasped out their pleasure in wet sloppy kisses, devouring one another’s cries, until first one and then the other reached his climax, their chests heaving with their exertion, after which they collapsed in each other’s arms, giggling in their euphoria, utterly spent.

After long minutes together, Thor finally pulled himself back just enough to survey his lover’s face, brushing stray curls that had become caught in his eyelashes. “Loki, what are we to do? You have returned to me, it seems, in triumph, yet too late—father has contracted me to another—a princess of Vanaheim. There is no way he will consent to my marrying you, regardless of how many ice monsters you may have slain. What good will a discourse of our dear faith matter?”

Loki smiled, peppering Thor’s face with soft kisses before he answered, “Discourse alone will aid us not at all, dear Thor, but I am no longer merely the son of your itinerant instructor. I am the son and heir of King Laufey himself, and my mother is no other than your fairy godmother, Nix. There is no way your father will refuse us now.”

“Ah Loki, I knew you were more than you appeared to be. The affection of nobleness which nature shows above your breeding, and many other evidences proclaim you with all certainty to be a king's son. But how will we prove this to the king, my father?”

“I think I read somewhere of a princess proving her birth through some kind of test involving a pea. We should look that up.”

But first, they snuggled close under Thor’s luxurious sheets, and held each other close, skin to skin sharing lots of wet, sloppy kisses. Until . . .

“Who’s got the key?”

“Oh move out of the way. I’ll get it.”

“Put your shoulder into it!”

The door swung open and the couple scrambled wildly to cover themselves, which somehow resulted in Thor baring his ass for the world to see as he tried to cover Loki’s modesty with his own.

“Thor!”

“Mother!”

“Loki?”

“Mmmmph!”

Suddenly, rebellion swelled within Thor’s breast fueled by his great affection, “Mother, we shall not be torn asunder! Not for Asgard, nor the pomp that may be thereat glean'd, not for all the sun sees or the close earth wombs or the profound sea hides in unknown fathoms, will I break my oath to this my fair beloved: therefore, I pray you, as you have ever been my father's honour'd friend, when he shall miss me,—as, in faith, I mean not to see him any more,—cast your good counsels upon his passion; let myself and fortune tug for the time to come! For my love and I will be together forever!”

“Oh Thor, stop it!” Nix glared at him from over top her glasses as she tried desperately to suppress her giggles. “No one’s going to steal your beloved away. Your mother and I have got all worked out. Get your clothes on and come downstairs, honestly!”

Nix pivoted sharply on the toe of her pointy black pumps to face the crowded hallway. “Shoo! We found them! Surely you lot have got something that needs doing. Clean out the grates. Start cooking dinner. We’ve got an engagement to celebrate!” She winked at Loki over her shoulder and closed the door behind her.

Thor’s face burned with embarrassment as he tried to stutter out an apology, “I almost crushed you, dearest, I’m so sorry. And then the things that just popped out of my mouth, I’m so sor—umph!”

He could get no more words out as Loki’s mouth was latched onto his in a crushing demonstration of his affection. When they finally detached themselves Thor found himself robbed of speech by the look of utter adoration on Loki’s face.

“Oh Thor! Would you really have left everything for me?”

“For you, I would write loyal cantons of contemned love and sing them loud even in the dead of night; halloo your name to the reverberate hills and make the babbling gossip of the air cry out ‘Loki!’ O, you should not rest between the elements of air and earth but you should hear of my love for you!”

“Maybe this Shakespeare stuff isn’t all bad, after all.”

“What is this Shakespeare everyone keeps babbling about?”

“It’s ok, Thor, I promise to tell you later,” Loki told him, before he stopped his mouth with one more kiss, and then they sighed, dressed, and resigned themselves to being seen in public once more.

And with such determination between them, and such a pair of mothers behind them, is there any doubt of the outcome?

No. Never fear, gentle readers. They did, indeed, live happily ever after.


End file.
